I
don't remember a time before Star Wars. I have to wonder . . . Was
there a time before Star Wars? The last of the original trilogy was
released seven years before I was born, but almost all of my earliest
memories include those amazing movies. I don't know how I got into
it, but I don't remember my life without it. My childhood was spent
(but certainly not wasted) playing Star Wars themed games (not games
like computer games or video games. No, we used our imagination back
then) with my best friend, most of which included us being twin
sisters: Leia and Leah (we would switch off each game so we could
each be the "real" character sometimes, and avoid nasty
arguments). For a while, we honestly thought we were twins –
destined to save the galaxy, armed only with the neighbor boys' toy
lightsabers, left outside and neglected – at least, until they
figured out that we were "borrowing" them every once and a while.

We
spent rainy days inside, watching the trilogy straight through.
(Occasionally skipping The Empire Strikes Back; we didn't
like the "gore" of Luke's hand getting cut off. This was, of
course, before we figured out that "gore" was cool.) We spent
many days wishing with our very hearts and souls that there was more
to it, wishing that good 'ol George would pick it up again. We
didn't care what he did, or how he did it. We just wanted it –
and soon.

When
1999 rolled around, and we caught wind of a new Star Wars movie, it
gave us a new hope. (Ha, ha. I'm hilarious.) And, with our spirits
newly restored, and the knowledge that our very dreams were coming
true, we gratefully plunged into it headfirst. This was the
introduction of something new, something wonderful, something so
awesome, it could only be described as "holy": Expanded Universe.
Yes, Jedi Apprentice came out, and we thought we had died and
gone to heaven, but that was only the beginning. (Literally. Hah! I
made another funny.)

That
was back when we were nine or ten. It's really amazing when I think
of that; it seems so long ago. Now we're fifteen, and even though I
moved to a different state, she's still into it, and so am I –
with a few new Star Wars Fanatic Friends. I've literally been
waiting all my life for this moment, and it's finally come. I can
now die a happy and contented Star Wars fan. Well, almost. First, I
have to profess my undying thanks to the man responsible for this
whole mess: Mr. George Lucas.

I'd
definitely like to thank Mr. Lucas for doing a great job of appealing
to the female audience. Guys don't realize that girls are just as –
if not more – "hard-core" than they are. I say it's possible
for us to be more into Star Wars than some boys because we can look
into the plotline, and into the characters, and beyond the lightsaber
battles to find a message. (I'm not saying that boys don't do
this, and I'm not saying ALL girls do it either. One of my best
guy-friends has spent long hours discussing the Jedi code with me, as
if it were a philosophy, and psycho-babbling about why the characters
did what they did.) While I'm here psychoanalyzing Anakin, my
guy-friends are grumbling that the battle scenes should have been
longer. Perhaps we are able to get into the story a bit more than the
boys because we are a bit more sympathetic. Unfortunately, due to
society, men are not supposed to feel worried for Luke when he's in
danger, cry with Anakin when his mother dies, feel relieved when Han
is (partially) saved from Jabba by Leia, or pretty much react in any
other way than, "Dude, that was freakin' sweet!" Of course,
there are men who have escaped the restraints of our confining social
expectations, and actually let us know that they have feelings.

All
of this said, I'd just like to applaud Mr. Lucas for actually
providing a love plot (however cheesy it may be at times, though not
often), exceptionally good-looking men (Hayden, younger Obi-Wan, and
Harrison gave us something to look at in-between the action scenes we
all love oh-so much), and providing us with two, incredibly strong
female characters (along with the occasional glimpse of female Jedi
kicking major Separatist butt in Episode II).

I'd
like to thank Mr. Lucas for not continuing with any movies beyond the
original trilogy. Why? Well, let's put it in the immortal words of
my dear friend, Katie: "Do you really want to see Harrison Ford, at
sixty, wearing leather pants?"

Lately,
it seems that directors feel the need to insert a little bit of
"F-en-heimer this, F-en-heimer that" and an occasional scantily
clad woman to bump that rating up a notch. They seem to think it will
bring in more of an audience, but they're having a really hard time
grasping the fact that it doesn't. Some people accuse Mr. Lucas of
doing this with Episode III, and I'd like to have a nice chat with
those people so I could tell them where to stick it. As an author, I
see where Mr. Lucas is coming from. Your story has to be written the
way you feel it should be written, and doing it any other way is a
crime. I want to thank Mr. Lucas for staying true to his plotline,
even if it meant breaking the hearts of a few of his fans. (My poor
little nine-year-old brother included. Don't worry, Mr. Lucas,
he'll get over it.)

I've
discovered a few things through my experience with Star Wars: whether
you're young, old, or in-between, whether you make it to all the
conventions, or none of them at all, whether you're up to your ears
in Star Wars trivia knowledge, or you've just seen the movies for
the very first time, whether you're a classic nerd, the biggest
prep known to the human race, a rocket scientist, a bus-boy at the
local burger joint, a goth, a punk, a poser, or an "other", it
doesn't matter. If you can truly say you enjoy the movies, are
willing to let others know it, and don't care what other people say
about you because of it, you are a true, hard-core fan.

Hard-core
doesn't mean watching the movies almost religiously each
weekend; hard-core doesn't mean buying or making the most realistic
and accurate costume and wearing it every chance you get; hard-core
doesn't mean having the whole script of every movie memorized;
hard-core doesn't mean attending every party, convention, or other
such social gatherings related to Star Wars.

Hard-core
does mean doing what you think is extreme, doing it
with pride, and doing it because you really do love the movies, and
not just because you love the attention people give you when you do
it. While hard-core to one person may just be wearing a Star Wars
shirt every once and a while, another person might think hard-core is
owning all the movies, having as many sound tracks as possible,
memorizing personal stats on all of the characters (and possibly the
actors that play them), owning vintage action figures and movie
posters, buying really nice toy lightsabers for exorbitant amounts of
money, and owning their very own cardboard cut-out of some random,
obscure character that nobody else really knows – or even cares –
about (but still rolling their eyes and sighing when others don't
know its name).

I've found my hard-core: I feel I'm destined to protect the honor
of Star Wars by inflicting stabbity, plastic lightsaber death upon
those who call it "Star Trek", randomly arriving at my high
school dressed as my Sith alter-ego: "Darth Extra", showing off
my control of the Force by kindly opening doors for disabled persons
(while my minions man the handy-capped button.), and educating others
in the ways of the Force: it's okay to hyperventilate when you
watch the newest Star Wars for the first time. I only wish that other
Star Wars fans could understand that I'm a true fan, just as they
are, and I wish they'd stop trying to prove their superior fan-ness
by tossing random trivia around, and then deeming us all failures
because we don't know every single name of every single spacecraft
in every single movie. I want to thank Mr. Lucas for helping me to
find my realm of fan-dom, and for making the movies that have taught
me never to take the crap other kids give me for being a Star Wars
fan. (Besides, once I've assembled a mini nerd-army, we shall
attack them with our lightsabers and Force lightning! Hoohah!)

Even
though I feel completely lost, now that the final installment has
been made and the saga is complete, I am glad for it. And, no matter
how disgustingly cliché it sounds, every story has to have an
ending, and I must say this ending was sublime. Some say
they're disappointed because they had an image of what would happen
in the end, and the movie didn't live up to it. Well, personally, I
think the disappointment they're feeling is simply the realization
that there is no more. It's done. We've been waiting years and
years for it, saying that we "couldn't wait until Episode III
came out!" but when it finally got here, we realized that very,
very deep inside our hearts, there was a small part of us that didn't
want the day to come. We wanted Star Wars to last forever.

Well,
cheer up guys, the end's only the middle, and good 'ol George
left us one huge open ending, and it's up to us to fill that up.
With what? With our own individual hard-core, that's what. Keep
Star Wars going, people. There's a whole new generation just
waiting to see it, and it's up to us to be the Luke and the Leia:
rebuild the Jedi order step by step, and make Star Wars immortal.
Because, no matter how disgustingly cliché it sounds, every
story has to have an ending. But only the good ones have open
endings.

May
the Force be with you, and may it be Hard-Core.

Truly yours, forever
and ever (You can't escape me.) –

Nyssa Towsley (Yes,
Nyssa. As in Doctor Who.)

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